On Again Tonight
by Politics.and.Prose
Summary: This isn't about them being in love. This is about both of them having an itch and the other knowing exactly the right way to scratch it.


_I'm glad you picked up the __phone__.  
>Yeah, I know that we both <em>_agreed__,  
>We'd leave each other alone.<br>We're just wastin' our time,  
>We know it ain't right.<br>There's no goin' back, but havin' said that_

* * *

><p>She knows it's a bad idea as soon as she hits the "send" button. She shouldn't be calling him. They tell each other every time that it's the last. She's into girls. He's into more than one girl at a time. You'd think it would work out great for both of them but she's not really that into sharing.<p>

But she's had a pretty shitty day at work and she just needs to feel wanted, needed. Not that he makes her feel wanted or needed but he _does_ make her feel more than empty and useless.

When he picks up she simply says, "Meet me at mine in ten."

She hangs up before he answers; she knows he'll be there anyway.

* * *

><p><em>I wish you would come over,<br>An' drink my best bottle of wine.  
>If you can <em>_lay__ on my shoulder,  
>An' I can lean on you just one more time.<br>You can mess up head,  
>An' mess up my bed,<br>An' leave before the mornin' light.  
>I need your on again, off again, on again tonight.<em>

* * *

><p>"This is a bad fucking idea," he says when she opens the door to let him in.<p>

His actions are contrary to his words, however, since he reaches for her immediately, encircles her in his strong arms, and presses a hot, wet, open-mouthed kiss to her neck.

"You say that every time," she whispers in response as her hands move immediately to the buttons on his shirt. "And we still get it on."

"M'not sayin' no," he responds as he kicks the door shut behind himself. "Just sayin' it's a bad idea."

"You seeing someone?" she asks, though she doesn't really care and it probably won't even phase her if he says yes.

This isn't about them being in love. This is about both of them having an itch and the other knowing exactly the right way to scratch it.

"Does it matter?" he asks as he shoves her back lightly only to whip her shirt over her head and pull her back in. "I'm here."

"I just wanna know if I'm gonna have to deal with a fucking jealous girlfriend showing up on my doorstep wanting to try an' kick my ass for fucking her man."

"It's not like that," he tells her seriously (or as seriously as he can while his hand is reaching into her pants and testing to see how wet she is).

She knows he likes to know how hard he's going to have to work before he can slide into her body without any resistance. He does it every time and she'd be fucking annoyed if it didn't feel so damn good when his calloused fingers run over her clit and through her folds.

Knowing that he's going to do it never fails to turn her on even more.

"So fuckin' wet for me," he moans against her ear as her hands fumble slightly on the button of his jeans. "S'that all for me?"

"No. I thought about Lindsay-fucking-Lohan before you got here," she spits back at him as she shoves her hands up under his shirts and pushes them over his head, hands immediately returning to his pants.

"Don't be a bitch," he warns as he unsnaps her bra and lets it fall to the floor. "You wanted me here. I can be just as happy fucking some faceless blonde I pick up at Sonny's."

"Fuck you," she responds angrily as she shoves his pants down and thrusts her hand into his briefs. She smirks and arches a brow. "Looks like I wasn't the only one pre-gaming."

"Shut up," he retorts. "You wanna fuck in the bed or against the wall?"

"The fuck do I care?" she asks. "Just get my fucking pants off and give me your cock."

"You sure know how to romance a guy," he jokes as she pushes down his underpants and he does the same with her skirt and panties. He grips her behind and lifts her in the air. "Bed first."

"What the fuck ever. Just fuck me, okay?"

So he takes her to her room and proceeds to fuck her until she forgets about her bad day, week, month. Life.

And as she lights a cigarette he slides on his pants and says, "Don't call me for that again."

"Fine," she responds as she blows the smoke from her nose.

She knows she will anyway; she bets he does too.

* * *

><p><em>I don't expect things to change.<br>We've got to get on with our lives.  
>Space is a beautiful thing,<br>When you need some room.  
>I don't know about you, but I'm lonely right now:<br>I'm just thinkin' out loud._

* * *

><p>She slides onto the bar stood beside him and orders a dirty martini.<p>

"S'a stupid drink," he tells her, his eyes focused on what she can only assume is a glass of whiskey that's sitting on the bar in front of him.

"What's eating you?"

"Nothing."

She stares at him for a minute before frowning. "You _are_ seeing someone."

He looks up from his drink and offers a painful smirk. "Not anymore."

She almost feels bad. But then she realizes he dropped this girl like it was nothing at all and came running when she called. Chick must not have been worth it anyway. "Want me to say I'm sorry?"

"The fuck does it matter? She found out. I told her. Whatever. So I got a slap and a _get the fuck out of my apartment, manwhore_ and here I am." He shrugged. "S'not like I was in love with her or anything."

She can hear the lie more clearly that any of the words he spoke.

When she mumbles, "sorry" she actually means it.

"The fuck ever," he says loudly as he picks up his glass, downs the liquor and slams the empty glass on the bar top. "Yours or mine?"

"Mine," she tells him as she drops a ten on the bar for her untouched drink and grabs his hand.

She tries to fight the strange disappointment when he pulls his hand away.

* * *

><p><em>I wish you would come over,<br>An' drink my best bottle of wine.  
>You can lay on my shoulder,<br>An' I can lean on you just one more time.  
>You can mess up head,<br>An' mess up my bed,  
>An' leave before the mornin' light.<br>An' I need your on again, off again, on again tonight._

* * *

><p>It's just like last time, like always.<p>

They get into her apartment, strip, fuck. Maybe more than once depending on how many Os she wants.

Then he gets dressed and she lights a cig and he's out the door without a backward glance.

She stops him this time, though.

"You can stay if you want."

He stops but doesn't turn around.

"I don't," he answers before leaving and leaving her there alone.

Again.

She thinks this might really be the last time he comes when she calls.

* * *

><p><em>Well, no, I don't care; I can come over there,<br>An' I can drink your best bottle of wine:_

* * *

><p>He calls her one night out of the blue.<p>

"Come over."

"No," she tells him with a sarcastic laugh. "Why the fuck should I?"

"Because I can't fucking stop missing you, okay? So get the fuck over here."

"You know I can't," she tells him softly. "I …"

"So, what? You found a chick to go down on you nightly and now you're too fucking good for me? I'm just a convenient dick for you to ride while you wait for another dumb blonde to grab a purple dildo to shove up your pussy?"

"You're being a dick," she spits at him.

"And you're being a fucking bitch. I lost my girlfriend because of you!" he shouts.

"You lost your girlfriend because of _you_!" she shoots back irritably. "You didn't have to say yes!"

"I told you to stop fucking calling me! Why couldn't you just respect that?"

She snorts. "Respect it? I would have if you sounded at all like you actually _wanted_ me to."

He lets out a frustrated sigh and she can picture him running his hand over the top of his head. "I don't want to fucking fight with you, okay? I just wanna …"

"Fuck me?"

"See you, okay? I just wanna fucking see you."

She's quiet for a minute, honestly considering what she has versus what she could have. Sure, she and Puck weren't going to date. It was fucking for the sake of fucking, plain and simple.

And Courtney wasn't the good of a lay anyway.

"I'll be there in fifteen."

"I pour the wine," he responds softly.

So she knows tonight won't be a quick fuck. Probably because he can't leave and she knows she won't.

* * *

><p><em>'Cause I need your on again, off again, on again;<br>Your on again, off again, on again tonight.  
>Again tonight.<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Song: Trent Wilmon's "On Again Tonight"<strong>


End file.
